


In Your Eyes

by kibouin



Category: Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bodyswap, Established Relationship, M/M, Wakanda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 10:44:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7529617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kibouin/pseuds/kibouin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky wakes up after experiencing a strange dream, only to find out things have gotten even stranger.<br/>[originally posted on <a href="http://taintedkibou.tumblr.com/post/147475757784/in-your-eyes">tumblr</a>]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Italicized names [Bucky, T’Challa], as well as pronouns [his, himself, my] indicate when the body’s owner is looking at / referring to themselves... if that makes sense.

_The last thing Bucky Barnes remembered was climbing into bed and willfully taking the covers all for himself. He now stood at the edge of a dense, unfamiliar jungle, a cliff with a long drop behind him. Bucky dropped into a low crouch, his senses screaming that some_ thing _was watching him. He could already tell there was nothing hidden on his person or anywhere in the black bodysuit he wore._

 _“Guess it’s hand to hand combat,” Bucky muttered. He lifted a gloved hand to his throat, startled by a voice that wasn’t his. The trees and other foliage ahead of him rustled, adding a new problem atop a long and growing list, and Bucky lifted his hands in preparation for battle. He was_ not _expecting a large, almost ethereal white jungle cat to slink out of the foliage, and almost fell from the cliff as he stumbled backwards._

 _“This has_ got _to be a dream. I’m definitely dreamin’.” He righted himself and circled to the left of the apparition, never breaking eye contact with the otherworldly beast._

_The jungle cat took a step forward, lowering its head to get a better look at the human. Razor sharp teeth, as long as swords, were revealed as it slowly opened its jaw. “You are not ready, little one.”_

_Before Bucky could respond, a massive paw swiped at him and he plummeted off the cliff and into the murky waters down below._

 

 

 

**-x-x-**

Bucky sat up with a strangled yell. There was no water filling his lungs, but he went into an even greater panic after coming face to face with _himself_. ‘ _I’m still dreamin’_ …’ This nightmare was nothing new. He found himself fighting against the Winter Soldier a great many times in the dark recesses of his mind. The asset wanted to reclaim its vessel and resume its missions.

A cool metal hand and a warm flesh one cupped his face and Bucky quickly realized he was having a panic attack and his doppelganger was attempting to calm him down.

“Breathe with me, James.”

_James_. Bucky inhaled sharply, but the breath was never released.

“James, please.”

_James_. Only T’Challa called him ‘James’. Bucky focused on _his_ eyes. There was no killing intent in their icy blue depths. They sparked with life and worry. “T… Challa?” he whispered.

_Bucky_ smiled, mismatched hands bringing them closer together.

“How…?” Bucky reached out, only to jerk backwards and out of T’Challa’s grasp. With more room between them, he was able to outstretch his arms, twisting the appendages as far as they could go.

“Those are _my_ arms you’re trying to break,” T’Challa chuckled.

Bucky looked from _his face_ to the deep brown arms that twisted and bent with his mental commands. He unconsciously chewed his bottom lip, running his fingers over the smooth skin of his left arm. No segmented vibranium that hissed or whirred just as naturally as he breathed. Two flesh and blood arms. Bucky pinched his left arm, smiling at the sharp bite of pain that was there, then gone almost instantly. He lifted his head to tell T’Challa and was reminded of the situation after once again finding his own face smiling fondly at him. 

“This is weird.” Bucky tapped _his_ nose. “God, I’m white.”

T’Challa laughed—Bucky never knew he could make such a noise—and lifted his right arm to eye level. “I’ve honestly never noticed.” He lifted the left and found it operated just as any of his limbs would. He flexed the fingers and shrugged his shoulder, gauging the weight. “It’s a little heavy. Not too much, but… Why didn’t you tell me?” T’Challa’s current train of thought was interrupted, by _himself_ , as Bucky attempted to distract him with a kiss. “That was weird,” he hummed.

“Just a little,” Bucky groaned, pulling back, distraction complete. The fact that T’Challa himself had worked on the arm meant there would be no complaining. Besides, it was far lighter than his previous one. Bucky swung his legs over the side of the bed and was reminded of T’Challa’s every-so-often desire to sleep naked. With a cheeky grin, he sprang up and made a dash for the bathroom.

“You’ve seen me naked before,” T’Challa’s voice echoed after him.

Bucky knew he was following. “But now I can feel what you feel.”

“Are you going to masturbate in my body, Barnes?”

“I’m going to play with my Black Panther.”

“ _James Buchanan Barnes_! I will castrate you with your own left hand.”

The unfortunate Dora Milaje members currently standing guard outside the bedroom door shared a few looks before agreeing that it would be best to intervene at a later time.

**x**

Shared showers never save time or water, not where Bucky Barnes and T’Challa were concerned. And they would probably have a repeat session of experimenting with their swapped bodies this evening, but now it was time to take things a little bit more seriously.

T’Challa sat between Bucky’s legs, waiting patiently as the other man tamed his hair into a manageable style. He idly shifted his left hand, finding the soft sounds comforting. It was a sound that accompanied Bucky Barnes. It let him know that his partner was still around. He missed it when situations arose where Bucky didn’t feel like wearing the arm, but then found another small detail, one that made him fall in love with the super soldier even more.

“You’re going to have to become the Black Panther,” T’Challa sighed once the hands in his hair vanished. Being so close, he was able to hear the stutter in Bucky’s heartbeat. He turned on the bed and found that the look of fear on his face seemed misplaced in this situation. “I can’t leave my nation alone when it needs me every day.”

“But I can’t… I’m not _you_.” Bucky drew his arms back to himself, trying not to stare at hands that weren’t his. It would make his argument invalid. “You can still wear the suit. No one will know. Make some kind of voice modification. Your tech is better than Stark’s, so I’m sure that’s no problem.”

“Thanks for the compliment.” T’Challa’s smirk was short-lived, morphing into a pensive expression. “What if I forget I’m no longer myself and remove my mask?”

“You only do that around the people you trust. In the safety of your palace.” Bucky wasn’t going down without a fight.

“No. I do it amongst my people to help _build_ trust,”

“T’Challa, please…”

“Don’t make me whine.” T’Challa smiled, cupping his right hand against Bucky’s cheek, putting an end to the rambling. “In all appearances, you are the Black Panther, and you _have_ to be. I have faith in you.” He pressed a kiss to _his_ frowning lips before gracefully slipping out of bed. “We should get something to eat and let my family know what’s happened.” T’Challa held out his left arm.

Bucky took it with a childish pout. He locked their fingers together and allowed himself to be pulled from bed.

The Dora Milaje were the first to be informed of the situation, which cleared up the conversation the women had overheard.

After breakfast, T’Challa fought Bucky into the Black Panther outfit. He managed to find half an outfit for himself among Bucky’s hoodies and jackets. An ocean blue shirt with three-quarter sleeves stopping just under his elbow. The pair of black slacks were his own. 

Bucky stared at his reflection, but _T’Challa_ stared back. The peculiar staring contest continued until T’Challa walked up behind him, curling mismatched arms around his waist. Bucky’s gaze was drawn to the silver arm; the arm T’Challa made for him.

T’Challa pressed his lips to the back of Bucky’s neck. “You can save all your thoughts for the council meeting.”

“Will W’Kabi be there?” Hope tinged the baritone of _T’Challa’s_  voice.

T’Challa tightened his hold with a soft grunt. “If I didn’t know better, I would actually be jealous that you’re asking after my chief of security.” By some strange twist of fate, Bucky and W’Kabi bonded, possibly over their bionic arms. “Yes, he will be. You do realize the Taifa Ngao meet just about _every day_. Don’t worry,” he added after Bucky switched into ‘flight’ mode. “They need to know about this as well.”

T’Challa squeezed a little tighter, listening to the arm softly work to accommodate the pressure, before releasing Bucky. Maybe together, they could all shed some light on this situation.

**-x-x-**

“I believe this is a test of the Panther God,” Ramonda stated clearly, breaking the silence that had befallen their small group after the “switcheroo” announcement.

Bucky sat up straighter in the small building where the council of elders gathered, failing to shake off the feeling of eyes that watched his every movement.

Ramonda fixed him with a knowing gaze. “While you may be civil partners, you did not perform a proper ceremony.” Bucky avoided her stare, but found himself avoiding the eyes of everyone else in the room. He settled with staring at _himself_ —T’Challa, his mind reminded him. He wanted nothing more than to tug back on the Black Panther hood and hide behind it.

“You did no wrong in my eyes, child, and I do not believe the Panther God is punishing you either. He may be testing you, in a different way.”

Bucky turned back towards Ramonda, folding his hands in his lap. He cleared his throat, earning even more attention than what he already had. “I thought it was a dream, but if what you say is true… I may have met the Panther God.”

Whispered discussions erupted—how and why the Panther God was able to visit Barnes when he was connected to T’Challa’s spirit, even if they did switch bodies—but T’Challa cut through it, bringing silence to the room. Even with a borrowed body and voice, he still carried the air of a King. “James. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Bucky glared at _himself_. “With all the shit that happened this mornin’, how the hell was I s’posed to know some ancient being was visitin’ me in my sleep?” Bucky ran his fingers through his short hair with a groan. “Sorry ‘bout ‘cussin’.”

“Apology accepted,” T’Challa sighed. Situations like this were nothing new. When you have Skrulls masquerading with your face, and the faces of families and friends, you learn to become accepting of the impossible. James, while not entirely new to the modern world, was still adjusting. “Did he say anything?”

“Told me I wasn’t ready,” Bucky mumbled, fiddling with the mask in his and. “Then tossed me off a cliff.”

T’Challa sat back with a soft huff of laughter, wondering if the God had a dark sense of humor. “He _is_ testing you. Would it be too late to perform a ceremony?” he asked Ramonda, turning in her direction.

Bucky’s head snapped up and he looked between T’Challa and the Queen Mother. “I… That’s not necessary. I love T’Challa—”

Happiness spread through T’Challa’s chest, a heat rising into his cheeks.

Bucky stopped his protests to grin at the King. “You _can_ blush.”

“Your body is the one that’s blushing, Barnes.” If the heat in his face was any indication, T’Challa could only _imagine_ how red he was.

Bucky forced himself to look away, his grin fading after meeting Ramonda’s gaze. “I care about your son a great deal, but I can’t… I don’t think…” He sighed deeply. It was a strange sight—Wakanda’s King bowing his head in what could be considered defeat. Bucky peeked up at the council. Business-serious faces stared back at him and he felt like he’d done everything wrong. “Maybe, if I was the me from back then, I wouldn’t mind. Now, I just wanna live my life without people realizing what I was.”

“Your past defines you to some extent,” Ramonda added, smiling gently at Bucky. “But it does not rule you. You’re allowed to make your own future now, James.”

A silence fell over the group as everyone quietly processed the situation.

“There’s a bit of unrest at the Great Mound,” W’Kabi announced, lifting his right arm after activating his Kimoyo beads. The holographic display showed a small group of six that faced off against each other. He flicked to another image where miners gathered around their equipment clearly ignored the presence of the appointed soldiers. “Maybe it will do the citizens good for their King to pay them a visit and praise their progress.” The suggestion was meant for Bucky.

“Also, Ross called again to check on the status of our guest. I may have accidentally cut the transmission short.” W’Kabi’s smirk was as cocky as they came.

T’Challa waved a dismissive hand. “He’ll live. So, what do you say, King T’Challa? A walk around your nation?”

Bucky pulled himself into a more upright position to find T’Challa arching an eyebrow at him. He wrinkled his nose.

“Don’t do that to my face,” the true King of Wakanda sighed. “We’re going to pay the miners at the Great Mound a visit. I’ll probably thank them, considering the vibranium was used to make this.” He flexed his left arm, closing his fingers into a fist.

“Okay, I guess,” Bucky muttered.

“Today is going to be an interesting day,” S’Yan chuckled.

**x**

Interesting was an understatement. Bucky Barnes was having a mental breakdown behind the safety of the Black Panther mask. As “James Barnes”, the true King of Wakanda walked at Bucky’s elbow, easily keeping a stoical expression on the borrowed face. W’Kabi walked ahead of them with a member of the Dora Milaje. Two more of the bodyguards brought up their rear. 

They hadn’t even made it a good distance through the Golden City when people started bowing and praising him. T’Challa whispered responses for their words through a private communications line built into the mask. Also words of comfort to keep his lover from bolting under all the attention.

Once they were clear of the more heavily populated areas, T’Challa tapped the comm device off, gave Bucky a “good job” pat on the shoulder, and quickened his steps so he walked alongside W’Kabi. The Dora Milaje fell back to replace the open spot at Bucky’s elbow. “I’m curious,” T’Challa began, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. An act he’d witness Bucky do many times before. “Who is watching over Wakanda if the chief of security is out taking a walk?”

W’Kabi grinned, tossing his head to one side with a laugh. The thick locks held away from his face with a ceremonial headdress bounced with the action. “I am but one man, King. There is a whole room full of very capable men and women that can monitor our shining nation. Besides, I’m due for some fresh air.”

T’Challa hummed, drawing the sound out until W’Kabi was laughing again.

“Our new resident is an interesting man,” the security chief admitted. “He’s become quite familiar with the equipment in the command center. If you can recall our last run in with some gutsy American bounty hunters?” T’Challa nodded and W’Kabi continued, “Barnes was the one that barked out orders. He knew their style and their tricks. Saved me a great deal of firepower. He wanted to go out there himself to fight, but—”

“Apparently the King of Wakanda would not have liked that,” Bucky cut in, now walking alongside the duo. “Your hearing is amazing.”

“As is yours,” T’Challa commended. “Why didn’t you tell me about this, James?”

Bucky lifted his shoulders in a shrug and W’Kabi stifled his laugh. The Black Panther did _not_ shrug. “It wasn’t important…” He stopped himself, wracking his brain for the right way to word his next statement. “It _was_ important, because it was an attack against your nation, but it was something minor. The Winter Soldier would’ve disposed of those men before your monitors even had time to pick them up.”

T’Challa stopped, glad that he had enough restraint to keep his hands tucked away. They were still in public and not many were aware of Bucky Barnes’ relationship with the Black Panther. Most of the Wakandans saw him as a new bodyguard, but T’Challa caught a few knowing glances from several of his people before. “You are not the Winter Soldier, James. I tell you this every day, as does the Queen Mother. W’Kabi?” T’Challa called over his shoulder.

The chief of security spread his arms in a gesture reminiscent of a shrug, though his shoulders remained low, a look of perfected nonchalance on his face. “Barnes is an amazing soldier,” was all he had to say.

T’Challa arched his eyebrows in a wordless, and very pointed statement of _There_. “Why are you so stubborn?”

“’s my nature,” Bucky all but chirped, his grin just visible beneath the mask. “Besides, Stevie’s worse.”

T’Challa scoffed, unconsciously rolling his eyes; another Bucky-like trait. “I’m well aware of the Captain’s bullheadedness, but this is about you, not him. Maybe this is what the Panther God wants you to understand. You are every bit as worthy as the next man, maybe even more so.”

Bucky fell silent, forcing himself to remain upright. The Black Panther didn’t slouch. 

T’Challa freed his right hand from the pocket of his pants and placed it gently at the small of Bucky’s back in a comforting gesture. And maybe this was why he currently resided in his lover’s body. His relationship with Storm was publicly known across the nations. Their separation was never made public, but word still spread. No ill will formed between them, and their friendship endured. Storm remained in Africa and visited every now and then. But only family and close friends were aware of his relationship with James. Only because that’s what Bucky himself wanted. 

“ _I don’t think it will do your image any good if people find out you’re sleeping with the Winter Soldier_ ,” was what James told him after their first night together.

Bucky stepped away from his touch, startling T’Challa out of memory lane. “We have to keep up appearances,” was the only thing Bucky said before quickening his steps to walk ahead. The previous Dora Milaje resumed her earlier position at the head of the small group.

W’Kabi guided them to a small aircraft that would take them the rest of the way to the Great Mound. He stayed on the launch pad, arms crossed over his chest as he watched everyone else boarded. When _Bucky_ stopped and stared at him questioningly, he freed one hand to execute a short wave. “I was just a guide. I’ve already been away from the command center too long. I’ll see you when you get back.” The aircraft’s door closed on T’Challa’s smiling face.

**x**

The visit went off without a hitch.

Bucky stood on a higher ridge of the Great Mound, observing the miners and equipment littered about. There were scattered soldiers that guarded Wakanda’s greatest treasure. Some stood guard while others mingled with the civilians, and it made Bucky feel at ease to see them laughing together rather than standing against each other. ‘ _Is this how T’Challa sees his nation? Is this how he feels_ …?’ He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, the earthy and rich scent of Wakandan soil.

Bucky’s eyes flew open, the eyes of the mask never giving away their former closed state, and immediately landed on _himself_. T’Challa was busy operating an excavator, a small smile on his face as he listened to the tales of the two miners riding with him on the machinery. His motives were obvious. T’Challa was making a name for “Bucky”; he was making his citizens realize that this stranger in their midst was no stranger.

As if realizing he was under close scrutiny, T’Challa lifted his head in the direction of where Bucky stood. The miners followed his gaze. The body’s muscle memory taking over, Bucky straightened himself to his full height, standing tall and proud like a King should. T’Challa led the action and all three bowed their heads in respect to the Black Panther. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same rules apply. Italicized names [Bucky, T’Challa], as well as pronouns [his, himself, my] indicate when the body’s owner is looking at / referring to themselves... if that makes sense.

Steve’s face lit up after he walked into the Wakandan Embassy. Both Bucky and T’Challa were standing in its lobby. He wanted to run to Bucky—embrace him, but T’Challa was kind enough to invite him down to visit. He redirected his gaze to the King, giving him his most businesslike smile. Diplomacy and all that, right?

 _T’Challa_ scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “So you jus’ see him as another suit then?”

Steve’s eyes widened, his feet bringing him to a slow halt. “Your… Highness?”

“Captain.”

Steve’s head snapped to _Bucky_ , eyes growing impossibly wider. He took a tentative step closer to the duo, eyes focused on his childhood friend. There was something different about him. Something he couldn’t pinpoint. Even as a soldier in the 107th, Bucky never stood at attention like he was supposed to. Always laid back, trying to make everyone else feel relaxed. Now, he held himself at perfect posture, with an aloof air. Steve inhaled sharply, turning back towards _T’Challa_. “…Buck?” he squeaked. 

 _T’Challa_ grinned, the action carefree. “Yeah, punk?”

“Oh, Gods.” Steve staggered backward, one hand on his hip while the fingers of the other tangled themselves in his short hair. Nobody warned him about body snatchers. Technically—not a snatch, more of a swap, but it was just as unsettling. “Wha…? How did…?” He peeked out from beneath his hand at Wakanda’s King. “…Bucky?”

“Still here,” Bucky laughed. He was nudged in the side by T’Challa, which only made his grin widen. “Oh, c’mon. I’m tired of keeping up appearances.”

“We’re still in public,” T’Challa pointed out, taking in the government officials that milled about. He extended an arm in invitation to Steve. “Captain, please. Join us in our suite.”

“Yeah…” Steve mumbled, accepting the guiding hand pressed against the small of his back. It was _Bucky_ , which meant it came from T’Challa. _Keeping up appearances_ , was what Bucky said not too long ago. Which brought forth the question: how long have they been switched? Dozens more questions tumbled around inside of his head, and he hoped to address them all once they made it somewhere more suitably private.

Once they arrived at the penthouse suite, T’Challa broke away from the small group, disappearing into a room located on their right. “His office,” Bucky explained. “He’s got Ayo and Aneka with him and I’ve got Teela. She’s the leader of the Midnight Angels. T’Challa stays here to take care of business and I get to travel New York and smooch up the natives with his face.

“ _Please don’t kiss anyone, James_ ,” floated out from the side office.

Bucky’s grin melted into an endearing smile, followed by him chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully.

Steve felt like he was owed _so_ many explanations. Before he could start demanding answers, the elevator chimed and a tall woman sauntered out in a stunning one-piece bathing suit. Water droplets glistened on her dark, sun-kissed skin. She gave him a calculating onceover before a dangerous smile curled her lips. “Captain.” Her gaze shifted to Bucky. “You promised you would join me.”

“One: you abandoned your King to take a dip. But, in all honesty…” Bucky shrugged his shoulders, hands raised to the sky. “T’Challa didn’t tell me he invited Steve over, and I think he did it so we could catch up. Rain check?”

“I’m coming with you,” the leader of the Midnight Angels stated, her tone leaving no room for an argument. “Let me get ready, sire.”

“Teela,” Bucky groaned, a hand on his hip and a pleading looks on  _T’Challa_ ’s face.

“You are as much my King as he is.” Teela bowed her head before circling around them to disappear into a room at the far left of the suite.

Bucky brought his hands up, scratching at his scalp in frustration. It was almost three months now that he and T’Challa switched bodies, and he was no closer to agreeing on a ceremony. There was also no guarantee that they would switch back, especially if the Panther God deemed him unworthy. Bucky lowered his hands and smiled tiredly at Steve.

Steve hadn’t moved since the bodyguard walked out of the elevator. Bucky was leaving him behind again. He knew it was painfully obvious because he made no effort to hide the dejection from his face. Their situations were quite similar: thrust into an unfamiliar world with an order to adapt, but in Bucky’s case, he had an entire nation backing him. Steve came out of the ice with nothing and no one. His expression must have taken a turn for the worse, because  _T’Challa’s_ became sympathetic.

“Stevie, hey.” Bucky moved closer, arms spread wide. He pulled Steve into a gentle embrace. “I’m not going anywhere, punk. I’m glad you never stopped looking for me, which is why I’ll never leave you again. Got’it?”

Steve nodded against _T’Challa_ ’s shoulder, returning the hug almost desperately. The Sokovia Accords had grown legs—the name was irrelevant at this point—and this so-called Civil War was spiraling out of control, dragging other superheroes into the spotlight of suspicion and even harm’s way. Sam was the only person on his side— _right now_ , he hoped. He currently searched for allies.

Bucky patted the broad back consolingly. “How ‘bout we go drink a few bars out of business?” he suggested, half in jest and half in truth. Steve’s body trembled with laughter, easing some of the guilt from Bucky’s heart. His memories were still fragmented, and he had his own issues to worry over, but the thought of letting Steve down again made him feel sick. Bucky gave Steve’s back one last pat before easing himself away. “Wha’dya say?” he pressed.

“ _I_ can’t get drunk,” Steve casually reminded him, waiting for it to sink in.

Bucky’s eyes widened and he twisted his borrowed body in the direction of T’Challa’s private office. “T’Challa! Can you get drunk?”

“ _Yes, James_.”

“Great. ‘m gonna go find a dive bar where no one knows your face. Stevie’s depressed.”

 _Bucky_ appeared at the entrance of the room, arms crossed over his broad chest as he leaned against the wooden frame. “You really shouldn’t drink if you’re disheartened, Captain. The consequences can be irreversible.”

“You sound like you speak from experience.”

T’Challa shook his head at Steve’s statement. “No. I’ve just seen many good men go down a dark path.”

“Way to suck the fun out a room,” Bucky scoffed, already feeling the tendrils of an awkward silence creeping through the air.

T’Challa lifted his right shoulder in a small shrug. The left was still braced against the wooden frame of the entranceway. “I’m just being the voice of reason. It appears the Captain loses his once he’s in contact with you.”

“Low blow, T’Challa.”

“Calling it as I see it, Barnes.” T’Challa pushed himself upright and crossed the floor to stand in front of _himself_. “This is as hard for me as it is for you. You don’t like the spotlight, but we still haven’t found a solution to the problem.” He cupped Bucky’s chin with the metal hand, guiding him in for a chaste kiss. Steve turned away sharply to give them some semblance of privacy.

“Please be careful, James. You are the King of Wakanda, no matter how much you deny it. There _are_ people that don’t like me. Assassinations are always attempted.”

Bucky bumped their foreheads together playfully before tilting his head to steal another kiss. “The same goes for you. You’re an assassin—”

“Former,” T’Challa corrected in a tone that said this conversation was an old one.

Of course, Bucky ignored him. “You’re an assassin, one that many people would love to take revenge on. But we’re both very skilled and I don’t think we’ll let anything happen to each other.” Bucky spoke of the bodies they currently resided in. He slid his hands down T’Challa’s arms, the right smoothing its way back up the metal arm. Bucky wouldn’t be considered an assassin, let alone a soldier, if he didn’t see the way T’Challa’s eyes darted to the corner of their sockets. A silent warning to remind them they had company. He pulled away before things became too heated, slapping Steve on the shoulder to get his attention. “Let’s go.”

The blond jumped, the faintest hint of a blush coloring his cheeks after he spun around to face them. “I’m ready!” he stammered.

Bucky smirked. Teela made her reappearance then, wearing a tight leather number that had Steve’s blush deepening, but the Dora Milaje paid no mind to Captain America’s behavior. She acknowledged her true King with a short bow, before giving the same gesture to Bucky. They were ready to head out and enjoy the town as best as celebrities could. 

“How long… have you and…?” T’Challa heard Steve’s hesitant question as the trio entered the elevator. 

The elevator closed on _Bucky’s_ calculating frown and _T’Challa’s_  cheeky grin.

**xxx**

Steve waited until Bucky found them a pub willing to accommodate _just_ the three of them before he began the questioning. Teela sat at a table nearest the door while Steve and Bucky hung out at the bar, already two drinks in.

“Buck.” Steve inhaled deeply, smiling down at the glass of liquid courage. “You seem so happy. It’s been almost a year.” He laughed, the sound dry and broken. “I’m worried about you leavin’ me, but in truth… I left you behind.”

Bucky slapped him hard, on the back, and Steve managed to catch himself before his head slammed into the counter. “Stop,” Bucky sighed, picking up his tumbler and emptying it. “I asked ya to leave, remember? You had to go break your Prince Charming out of prison.”

Steve turned his head sideways, staring blankly at _T’Challa’s_ profile. “Who?”

“The bird.”

 _The bird_ , Steve mouth. His eyes widened and he sat up so fast, he almost stumbled from his stool. “Are you talkin’ about Sam? Wait, wait.” He held up a hand, shaking his head—in denial, it looked like to Bucky. “If he’s Prince Charming, then I’m… _the princess_?”

Bucky grinned. “At least you’re a princess that doesn’t need rescuing.”

“Fuck off,” Steve scoffed, but he smiled down at his drink.

“Captain America has such a potty mouth,” Bucky crowed, sliding his glass forward for a refill. He didn’t even feel the hint of a buzz. “I was only around you two for a few days, but it was quite obvious. The good thing about it is…” Bucky’s grin fell from his face. “We don’t have to hide it anymore.” And yet, he was still hiding. He was hiding in the body of the King of Wakanda, letting T’Challa make right all his failures. Bucky threw back his new drink, hand freezing mid-air after he caught sight of the breaking news on the television above the bar.

The volume was low, but Bucky could still hear everything being broadcasted. The words meant nothing when a picture was worth a thousand words. The Wakandan embassy was nothing but rubble. “Steve… Teela!” The stool clattered to the floor, its previous occupant already halfway to the door. Bucky slammed the Dora Milaje into the wall after Teela attempted to stop him.

“Sire, he’s fine.”

“But—”

“He’s fine,” Teela repeated, calm and collected despite the proof of T’Challa’s demise. She held her hands high in a defensive gesture to convey she meant no harm. “His Highness is perfectly fine. He might be a little bruised, considering he’s working in a borrowed body, but you were also an experiment of the super soldier serum.” Teela glanced at the television, the shot now an aerial view. “He will be making sure everyone got out of the building safely. W’Kabi probably already has a Quinjet on standby.”

Steve stood at Bucky’s back, but took a step into Teela’s line of vision. “Quinjet? Why would Tony—”

“Stark’s not important right now,” Bucky cut in. He dropped his hands from Teela’s shoulders, clenching them into tight fists at his sides. “Do you know where T’Challa would be?”

Teela nodded her head at the television hung over the bar. Everyone turned simultaneously, including the shop’s owner.

**xxx**

Bucky Barnes was grappling with the Rhino in the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge.

The Rhino was a warning. He crashed through the ground floor of the embassy and T'Challa sprang into motion immediately after. The Dora Milaje assisted with evacuating the building after W'Kabi alerted his King of an oncoming missile. T'Challa would have found the situation ironic—considering the last thing he told James before he left—but he had collapsing metal and concrete to worry about.

Aneka was a few feet away when he dug himself out of the debris. She assisted him to his feet and discreetly slipped him a communication device. With W'Kabi in his ear, T'Challa was able to pinpoint the Rhino’s location. He wasn’t the only superhero in the city to do so, however.

“Hey!” The web-slinging teenager pointed at _Bucky_ while perched on one of the thick suspension cables. “It’s you. The one we tried to stop. Mr. Stark never told me your name. So, you’re not a criminal anymore?”

The Rhino breaking free of his web cocoon brought a temporary halt to any further conversation. Spider-man swung himself around, his web clinging to the cable, and slowly lowered himself. “Hey,” he called down to _Bucky_ from his upside-down position. “Wanna team up? We’re being broadcasted on the news right now. If Mr. Stark shows up, I can tell him you stopped the big guy and get you a pardon.”

“I _am_ stopping the big guy,” T'Challa muttered. The Rhino was a diversion and he wanted to know who was behind the missile that leveled his embassy. Swinging his left arm, T'Challa smirked at the hissing hydraulics. This suited behemoth was going down, with or without assistance from the child spider.

**xxx**

With Teela clearing a path, the King of Wakanda calmly made his way through the crowd gathered on the Brooklyn Bridge to the van and officers detaining Bucky Barnes.

“Sir—”

T’Challa’s glare stopped the officer in his tracks and he continued towards his destination. “James Buchanan Barnes has been deceased for many decades in your country. He now resides within my nation, and is a member of my army. You’ve already destroyed my embassy. If you wish to make an enemy of the King of Wakanda, I can grant you that desire. Release him now.” Each word was slowly enunciated and _T’Challa’s_ traveling gaze ended on the officer with an impatient hand on his holster.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky took the final step forward and the officers scattered, the handcuff keys thrown in his direction at the last minute. He easily snatched them out of the air, never once breaking eye contact with the King. Both men knew the flimsy objects could have easily been broken, but enough of New York’s property had already been destroyed. The bridge remained upright with the help of the spider child’s web solution.

T’Challa smiled up at him, his fingers brushing Bucky’s after his restraints fell away. He rolled his shoulders to alleviate the soreness of having his arms pinned behind his back. “My hero,” he chuckled.

Before Bucky could make his own comeback, he felt Teela at his back, protecting them from something she perceived as a threat.

“Hey, King Cat.” Tony leaned sideways to look around her, a lazy smile curling his lips. His team already had the Rhino contained in an unbreakable tin can. “We helped each other out last year, so why do I get the cold shoulder?” _T’Challa_ appeared calm to bystanders, but even Tony could see the King restraining his anger. Of course, Tony was not one to let sleeping dogs lie, or in this case, wild jungle cats. “I’m sorry about your embassy. If you want, I can put you and Barnes up in the Tower.”

Bucky kept his back to the inventor, borrowing strength from T’Challa. He wasn’t angry at Tony. Tony wasn’t the one that fired the missile. But the billionaire would unfortunately be on the receiving end of his wrath if he acknowledged him. “You free him from your city’s police, but intend to keep him prisoner in your tower. James is under my protection.” Teela stepped aside, but remained close, and Bucky finally turned around to give the inventor his full attention. “I believe we’ve overstayed our welcome.” Ayo and Aneka were also nearby; they wouldn’t be far from their King.

Tony lifted his shoulders in a hopeless shrug. “I won’t pressure you, just thought I’d come out and help clean up the mess.”

“Start with the hole in the ground near the wharf,” T’Challa sighed, finally rising from the back of the van.

Tony’s eyes narrowed at him, his posture growing stiffer. “It’s being taken care of,” he forced through gritted teeth. “And the injured are receiving medical attention. Nice arm, Barnes. Is there a shield to go along with it?”

“If there was,” _T’Challa_ interrupted, drawing Tony’s attention back to himself. “It would be no concern of yours. As I said, I believe we’ve overstayed our welcome. We’re meeting again under unfortunate circumstances, Stark, forgive me, but if so much as a firecracker goes off near our jet, I will consider it an act of war and the United Nations _will_ become an enemy of Wakanda.” Bucky considered his words. Leaving on a sour note was inevitable, and Tony had a habit of rejecting olive branches. He bowed his head in courtesy before nodding at Teela.

Ayo and Aneka made their way to their King. Tony visibly flinched as they walked by him. His attention was drawn elsewhere after a low, rumbling hum broke through the din of panicked voices still surrounding them. He rushed to the edge of the bridge and saw the waters of the East River were stirring. Tony removed his hands from the pockets of his tailored slacks, suit on call if this turned out to be another enemy. Not an enemy… yet. A sleek, streamlined jet rose from the waters, engines a quiet hum that made Tony interested in taking it apart to see how it worked. The aircraft turned its tail towards the bridge and the aft door slid open, a narrow walkway extending towards them.

Bucky slipped an arm around T’Challa’s waist, guiding him to the waiting Quinjet. T’Challa held back. “Steve—” _Bucky_ started.

“Stop talking, Barnes,” Tony growled, glaring down at the concrete beneath his polished shoes. The last thing he wanted to hear about was _that man_. Tony turned away sharply, waving a hand above his head. “Later, Your Highness.”

The rear doors of the jet had barely closed before T’Challa had Bucky pinned to the wall. “You were amazing,” the King whispered, mismatched hand’s tilting Bucky’s head upward. He trailed a path of kisses across his jaw and to his lips, licking into Barnes’ mouth after reaching his prize. Bucky opened up to him, adjusting his position to ease his thigh between T’Challa’s legs. T’Challa pulled away, stifling his moan against Bucky’s lips, his hips stuttering in an aborted thrust.

“Your bodyguards might not care, but I do,” W’Kabi shouted back at them from the cockpit.

Bucky grinned. He ducked his head for a close-mouthed kiss and pushed away from the wall. T’Challa took a few deep, calming breaths before muttering a quick, “I’m okay.” He accepted the headset from Aneka, making his way to the front of the jet as he pulled it on. He took the co-pilot seat and strapped himself in.

Bucky was happy being a passenger. He had the company of three amazing women, but he also needed some time with his thoughts. As well as an audience with the Queen Mother when they returned to Wakanda.


	3. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same here again. Italicized names [Bucky, T’Challa], as well as pronouns [his, himself, my] indicate when the body’s owner is looking at / referring to themselves... if that makes sense. Not always, but... most of the time.

It took Bucky another three months before he approached Ramonda, and then an extra month to plan for the ceremony.

Bucky was still in the palace, in a room dedicated to guests. Shuri wasn’t allowed in their bedroom and they weren’t allowed in hers. The Wakandan Princess was making sure he looked respectable for his big day.

Shuri tugged Barnes down to her height, hands firmly cupping his face. “You asked Mother for this, so don’t chicken out now.” She adjusted the high neck of the black cape Bucky now donned, in addition to the Black Panther outfit. Correction: it _was_ part of the outfit, one he chose not to wear, until now. An intricate necklace hung low around his neck, sparsely decorated in panther teeth. “Besides, you’re the Black Panther.”

“I’m not,” Bucky casually reminded her. “And I’m hoping I won’t be at the end of this.”

Shuri’s eyes narrowed. Her fingers didn’t quite dig into his shoulders, but her grip was firm. “Are you going through with this ceremony _just_  to try and get your body back? Because if you are—the Panther God will _not_ approve, and you will most likely be destroyed.”

Bucky’s eyes widened and he shook his head so vehemently, he was surprised it didn’t pop from his neck. “ _No_. No, never. I _do_ want my body back, but it’s because I’m ready to accept my future. I want to love your brother as myself. I don’t wanna hide anymore.” 

Shuri relaxed and slid her arms downward, patting Bucky’s armor-covered chest encouragingly. “Don’t forget that when you meet the Panther God.” She smiled brightly up at her _brother_. She was eager to have the real one back, but James had somehow become family. The fact that the Panther God spoke to him, if only just once, was proof enough. “Soon, I will call you my brother,” Shuri whispered, taking his hand with both of hers.

Bucky used his free arm to pull the Princess into a tight hug. He couldn’t find the right words to convey how much hearing her say that meant to him, and hoped that Shuri understood just how much _she_ meant to _him_ through his actions.

The young woman laughed, “Let’s get you on display.”

“If I may interrupt.”

Both Shuri and Bucky turned towards the new voice and they both bowed their heads in respect. “Uncle,” the Princess greeted. She pulled Bucky down to press a kiss to his check before excusing herself.

Bucky gave S’Yan his full attention. Never once had he been alone with the former Black Panther. T’Challa was usually at his side. The older gentleman picked up the Black Panther hood, a look of nostalgia and reverence in his eyes. “You should count yourself lucky, Barnes.”

 _Every day_ , was Bucky’s immediate thought, but he was not going to interrupt.

S’Yan held out the mask to Bucky with a smile. “You managed to become the Black Panther even though you are not of the royal line, and didn’t compete in the tournament for the title. As the former protector of this nation, I commend you on the excellent job that you have done so far. If this ceremony does not guarantee the reversal of your spirits,” S’Yan clapped a hand atop Bucky’s shoulder. “We would still be in good hands.”

Bucky could feel the tears prickling at the edge of his eyes as he turned the hood over and over in his hand. He wouldn’t cry, not until he was back in his own body. He laughed, the sound watery, and covered S’Yan’s hand with his own. “Thank you.”

S’Yan smiled mischievously, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “How about you make a grand entrance?”

Bucky pulled on the hood, hiding his grin.

**x**

There were two majestic black panther statues that stood guard over the royal palace. The jaw of the one in a “prowl” stance slowly opened, revealing the Black Panther poised against its teeth. Bucky had never known agility since having control over T’Challa’s body. He almost felt like he was flying as he back-flipped from the mouth of the panther. He twisted, landing lightly on a crouched position on the wall of the altar where Ramonda stood. The drummers to the left of him increased the tempo of their rhythmic playing.

The Queen Mother smiled, her hands clasped together as the Black Panther stepped gracefully down from the wall to stand beside her. “S’Yan put you up to that, didn’t he?” she whispered.

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky replied, unable to keep the laughter from his voice. He turned, his breath catching as he stared out at the sea of Wakandan citizens, all dressed in colorful and ceremonial garbs. _His_ citizens. They spread as far as his eyes could see, and they were here for the union of T’Challa and James Buchanan Barnes. Speaking of…

Three members of the Dora Milaje escorted _Bucky_ up to the palace altar, one to the left, one to the right, and one directly behind him. He was dressed in a soft white dashiki suit, with gold thread embroidered around the neck and at the hem of the trousers. T’Challa had opted out of the _kufi_ and instead tamed his lengthy hair so it hung straight down to his shoulders. Unfortunately, like its rightful owner, it could never truly be tamed, and waves were already appearing in the straightened hair.

Bucky anxiously chewed his bottom lip, the action hidden by the Black Panther mask. Some head doctor would tell him it was narcissistic, the amount of love he felt seeing _himself_ dressed so regally, but Bucky knew it was T’Challa, the man he had fallen in love with.

The Dora Milaje fell back when T’Challa stepped up onto the platform with his mother and Bucky. He held out his hand and Bucky immediately took it, holding on almost desperately.

Ramonda circled around so she stood before them, her back to the citizens of their nation. The drumming had been reduced to a low, steady beat, allowing her words to be carried on the wind. “I love you.” Bucky’s heart clenched, his gloved fingers curling more tightly around T’Challa’s. “Your families love you,” Ramonda continued, shifting her gaze from T’Challa to Bucky. “Your friends love you. You love each other.”

Bucky could feel himself becoming lighter. His grip on T’Challa grew stronger.

“You stand in the judgement of the Panther God. We will see what he has to say.”

 _Bucky’s_ eyes glazed over, iris and pupil disappearing in a film of white.  _T’Challa_ was hidden behind his mask, but it was a guarantee that his eyes had taken on the same ethereal appearance. 

 

_The real world faded away, but this new one did not remind Barnes of his previous dream. This world was bright, consisting mostly of a never ending whiteness, with shades of blacks and grays coloring the sparse grass and trees. He looked down at himself before shifting his gaze to T’Challa. Their outfits were reduced to strips of cloths to preserve their modesty._

_“We’re in the spirit world,” T’Challa explained, reaching for Bucky’s right hand. The vibranium arm was missing, possibly considered a materialistic item. He tangled their fingers together. “We are just essence here.” T’Challa gave a tug and Bucky followed. They moved silently, avoiding the larger-than-life spirits that appeared above and behind them, but there was still no sight of the Panther God. T’Challa jerked to a halt with a soft grunt, turning to find Bucky no longer moving. It didn’t take long to find the reason why, seeing as how it loomed over them both. He released Bucky’s hand, taking a few steps backwards._

_Bucky tilted his head back, mouth parted slightly in awe. This jungle cat was not the one he’d seen in his dream. This one was twice as large and yet still looked much friendlier._

“That was an old dream of T’Challa’s that I wanted you to share.” _The Panther God roared loudly, lowering itself onto his front paws. He stared into Bucky’s whited out eyes with glazed eyes of its own. Bucky didn’t waver in their staring match, giving as good as he got. With a chuff, the spirit butted its nose against Bucky’s spiritual form._ “It took you long enough.” _A large pink tongue extended from its mouth to lap at Bucky._

_Bucky yelped as he stumbled backwards, reflexively grabbing a fistful of fur to keep himself from falling over. Realizing what he’d done, he let go immediately. The Panther God rumbled softly and Bucky quickly realized it was laughing. He glanced over his shoulder at T’Challa and found the other man smiling. Another well-placed headbutt had him stumbling into his lover’s waiting arms._

 

Bucky blinked repeatedly, color returning to his vision. There was also a familiar weight on his left side. Bucky lifted his left arm, a happy sound escaping him as the vibranium plates shifted on his order. He lifted his head to stare at T’Challa, the rightful King.

In the process of removing his hood, T’Challa was unprepared when Bucky launched himself across the small space separating them, but he caught him nonetheless, his wide grin matching Bucky’s. Ramonda dare not separate them. Instead, she wrapped both men in a loving embrace.

“The Panther God has blessed this couple. Pity anyone who would stand in the path of their happiness.” Ramonda released them and took a step backwards, her arms spread wide. “Now let us celebrate their love!”

Surrounded by the drums beating in celebration, and witnessed by the people of his nation, T’Challa shared a loving kiss with Bucky Barnes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I borrowed most of the ceremony from T’Challa and Storm. Her wedding gown was so gorgeous. Everything about that issue was gorgeous. I loved their ceremony, love them together... just have to keep borrowing T'Challa away from her.
> 
> \- Sam and Steve were invited, but refused, not wanting to cause anymore problems; Bucky sent them the video W’Kabi recorded.

**Author's Note:**

> This is like an odd universe mixture of MCU and 616. I read like 2 volumes of Black Panther issues...  
> Come find me at [tumblr](http://kibouin.tumblr.com). I lurk and reblog, and occasionally post my thoughts.


End file.
